Saving Grace
by KnightMara
Summary: A young Luke story: everyone needs saving, now and then.
1. Chapter 1: The Cabinet

Saving Grace

By KnightMara

A/N: I don't own any familiar characters; I am just playing in the GFFA, that's all. This is just another young Luke story that explores the idea that everyone needs saving, now and then.

Chapter 1: The Cabinet

It was utterly dark, and worse yet, it was utterly silent as well. Knowing that this could only mean that this wing of the school was completely empty, Luke Skywalker dropped his forehead to his knees and moaned. With his knees crammed against his chest, his head didn't have far to go. The sound of his low moan echoed off the metal walls of the tiny cabinet into which Fixer had rudely shoved him nearly an hour ago. He'd hollered himself hoarse and banged against the locked door until his hands ached, but it had been useless, and at last he'd given up hope for a rescue any time soon. He only hoped one of the custodial droids would notice his knapsack on the floor when they came around in the evening—that is, if Fixer hadn't taken it with him.

He let out a long, despairing sigh. Why did he have to mouth off to Fixer when Biggs was off on a trip with his family? He should have known better than to get on the older boy's bad side without Biggs around to defend him. Then again, the only way Luke could keep from getting on Fixer's bad side was to avoid him all together. Somehow, whatever Luke did or said resulted in either bullyish taunting, an icy brush off, or this—imprisonment in a school cabinet or whatever other confined space was nearby. At moments like these, Luke wished he were older, or bigger, or somehow better able to defend himself against classmates who were bigger and older than he was. That, or he wished he'd never passed those stupid exams that had promoted him a whole year. How had he even passed? He wasn't even all that smart—must have been a mistake! There was no way he belonged in Seventh Year!

Nothing, however, changed the fact that his eleven year-old body was now horrifically cramped in a space much too small for someone even as little as he was. He didn't want to think about how sore he was going to be when he got out. He'd only been trapped for an hour, and already his legs were screaming for a release from this confinement. He also didn't want to think about what he would tell his aunt and uncle when he got home. And what must Tank be thinking right now? They were supposed to ride home together. Had Tank even wondered about where he was? Had he gone to the Lars homestead to tell them that he was missing? Would his aunt and uncle be panicked when Luke got home?

He moaned again, knowing he would only find the answers if and when he got out. As it was right now, he was completely helpless.

Suddenly, he tensed as a dull drone broke the silence. Hope surged in him. "Please let it be the droid. Please let it be the droid," he whispered over and over to himself.

But the more he listened, the less it sounded like the whirring motors of the custodial droid. In fact, it sounded incredibly like human voices. Grasping at the tiniest thread of a possible rescue, he pounded his already sore fists against the metal door and cried out as loudly as his strained vocal chords would allow.

"I can't believe it worked," Lara giggled as she and her best friend Grace walked discreetly down the corridor from the Tenth Year wing.

Grace tucked a rebellious tendril of auburn hair back behind her ear and pushed up the sleeves of her oversized tunic as she remarked confidently, "I told you she was an idiot. I mean, she had the datacard right there on her desk, clearly labeled when we left the class, and it was still there when we went back. Like I said it would be. Could she be any dumber? As if we can't read 'Clone War Literature Exam' right on the stupid card!"

"So I guess this means I'm going to your place to 'study' for the test, right?" Lara blinked her big brown eyes at her companion and tossed her long chestnut hair over her shoulder. It was easy to see why she had several boys fawning over her constantly.

Grace gave her a quick nod, still amazed at her teacher's stupidity. "And she even left her door open, for crying out loud!"

Lara shrugged. "The Empire's finest. At least the education's free. Could you imagine if our parents were paying for this?" She started to laugh but stopped as Grace froze mid-step. "What?"

"Did you hear something?" Grace whispered, looking around frantically.

"Shavit, you don't think security is still here, do you?" Lara's panicked voice whispered back. Her complexion grew noticeably pale.

The two stood silent and still for a moment before Grace jerked. "There it was again!"

Puzzled, Lara frowned and looked up and down the corridor. "It sounds like banging."

Tiptoeing along the corridor, Grace listened at each door, trying to tell where the odd banging sound was coming from. She stopped in front of one of the Seventh Year classrooms. "I think it's coming from in here," she whispered to Lara.

There was a glint in Lara's eye as she breathed, "A rendezvous, perhaps? You know what they say about those Imperial instructors."

Grace had to struggle to keep from laughing, and she glared at her friend. "If so, I don't want to know what they're doing," she quipped back. She pressed her ear to the door to listen further. Abruptly the banging stopped. Then she heard what sounded like a muffled voice swearing. Exchanging curious glances with Lara, Grace opened the door and peered inside the room.

"Anything there?" Lara asked from behind.

Grace shrugged. "Looks like an empty Political Science classroom," she answered, looking around. She pointed to the shelves along one wall that held several model structures in various stages of completion. "Hey, remember when we had to do that project? Stars, I hated it!"

Lara poked her head into the classroom and crinkled her nose. "Oh, yeah. The ancient civilizations project. I think I failed that one." She stepped into the room to take a closer look. "Wow, some of these kids are taking it seriously. Look at some of these models. I mean, they're—"

Without warning the banging started again, and the two girls spun around, startled. Seeking the source of the sound, Grace's eyes roved the classroom. There was a row of cabinets along the floor on the opposite wall and Grace moved quickly toward the one on the end. "It's this one," she said to Lara as she began to jiggle the handle. "Hello?" she called into the cabinet.

"Help," a tiny, hoarse voice replied from within.

Lara's jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding me."

Grace finally managed to work the unlocking mechanism and opened the cabinet door. Inside was the most miserable looking boy she'd ever seen, folded and twisted inside the tiny confines of the cabinet's interior. Beckoning Lara over, she and her friend pulled the kid out and watched as he stretched himself out on the floor and took the first deep breaths he'd managed in quite some time.

"Thanks," the kid panted, looking up at the two of them with the bluest eyes Grace had ever seen. "I thought I was gonna' be stuck in there 'til morning."

Grace observed the boy with some confusion before venturing, "Mind telling us how you got there?"

The boy grimaced and remarked irritably, "How do you think?"

She threw an exasperated glance to Lara, who only looked back at her in amusement but said nothing. Turning her attention back to the kid, she asked, "Okay, so what are you doing in the Seventh Year area, kid?"

The boy scowled back. "I AM a Seventh Year!" he growled as he picked himself up rather stiffly from the floor. Looking around, he asked, "Have you seen my knapsack?"

Grace shrugged her shoulders a split second before spotting a well-worn, sand-colored bag sitting on a shelf that was much too high for the kid to reach. She grabbed it and held it in front of him. "This it?"

The kid nodded and graciously took the bag from her hand. Brushing his sun-bleached hair out of his eyes, he gave a tentative smile and said, "Thanks again." Then he turned to leave, walking with a slight limp toward the door.

Ignoring Lara's puzzled expression, Grace sprang after him. "Whoa, there kid!" she interjected, placing herself between him and the door. "You sure you're alright?"

The kid shrugged. "Yeah," he replied flatly. "I was only locked in a cabinet."

At this point, Lara stepped forward. "Yeah, but why?"

The boy looked down at his shoes. "Some kid thought it would be fun, I guess."

Grace frowned. "Do you get picked on a lot?" she asked, her voice laced with uncharacteristic sympathy for the little kid before her.

In response the boy shifted uncomfortably, saying, "Look, I've got to go." He quickly dodged around her and sprinted out the door without another word.

Lara arched her eyebrows and shot Grace an amused look. "Well, that was weird."

"Yeah," Grace agreed, following the boy out of the classroom and watching him disappear down the hall. Something about the kid had her concerned. "Sure hope he gets home okay."

"Is that you, Luke?" Aunt Beru's voice asked the moment Luke had stepped through the door to their modest but cozy home.

"Yeah," Luke replied flatly, dropping his knapsack in its usual spot by the door and heading toward the kitchen. His stomach was grumbling loudly, upset that the afternoon snack had been delayed by the unfortunate incident with the cabinet.

As soon as he entered, Aunt Beru turned from the food she was busy chopping and fixed him with a questioning gaze. "You're a bit late, aren't you?"

Luke merely shrugged his shoulders and reached for one of the biscuits she kept stashed in the cupboard for him. "I got held up working on the poli-sci project," he answered, taking a biscuit in each hand. "I guess I forgot about the time."

If Aunt Beru suspected anything, she kept silent and continued to chop up her vegetables with merely a sidelong glance.


	2. Chapter 2: The Lunchroom

Saving Grace: Chapter 2

By Knight Mara

A/N: This is definitely a work in progress, and it has not been beta-ed, so I apologize in advance for any crazy mistakes or errors. Thanks for the reviews—I will try to post as often as my muse allows me to write.

"So, Wormie, I guess you managed to get home last night," Fixer laughed, taking a seat across from Luke in the lunchroom. "After all, you're not wearin' the same ugly clothes you wore yesterday. Instead you're wearin' some different ugly clothes."

Luke groaned inwardly as the boy continued to laugh uproariously at his expense. Appetite now gone, he picked at his food, wishing that Fixer would just go away. Unfortunately, a few moments later the rest of the group also took their seats at Luke's table.

"Hey," Fixer commented excitedly to Deak and Windy, "have you two seen the ads for the Boonta Eve celebration in Mos Eisley?"

Luke, immensely grateful that the boy's attention had shifted away from him, silently listened with rapt interest. He hadn't heard anything about a Boonta Eve celebration.

Windy replied with equal enthusiasm, "Yeah, my dad was telling me about it. Says they're supposed to bring back podraces this year."

"I thought those things were illegal," Deak piped in.

"Were, Deak," Fixer intoned impatiently. "Key word is 'were' illegal. Guess that means they're gonna' ship in some alien riffraff."

"What, humans can't do it?" asked Deak, puzzled.

Windy laughed. "No way! You have to have like three arms just to fly one of those things!"

Luke, unable to keep quiet any longer, suddenly spoke up. "Human reflexes are too slow to control the pods," he said softly. When the others looked at him curiously, he wished he hadn't spoken. "I read that somewhere," he added in a whisper.

Fixer snorted, then turned back toward the others. "Yeah, like Wormie said, humans can't race pods. So to have a race, it means they're gonna bring in a bunch of who-knows-what to race. That's why they're having it at Mos Eisley. It's a spaceport."

"So they ship 'em in, and ship 'em back out, right, Fix?" Windy remarked.

"Exactly."

Nauseated and annoyed with the boys and their conversation, Luke rose from the table. Fixer was on his feet instantly with a scowl on his face.

"Where are you goin', Wormie?" he asked, a definite challenge in his voice as he stared down at Luke. "What, you don't like our company?"

Luke swallowed hard and stared back at Fixer. "No, I'm just not hungry right now."

"So what?" Fixer replied. "You can't keep your friends company?"

Tank waltzed into the group just then. "Hey, guys!" he said in greeting as he sat down next to the seat Luke had just vacated. "What's going on?"

Windy answered. "Wormie here doesn't want to be social."

Tank leveled a stare at Fixer before stating, "He's probably still upset about being locked in a closet yesterday."

"Hey, the freak deserved it!" Fixer responded hotly. "Kid here keeps thinkin' he's Biggs or something. Thinks he can run his mouth off whenever he wants to."

Tank kept quiet, and Luke looked down to meet his sympathetic gaze. Tank wasn't one to push Fixer at all, not even to defend Luke, and Luke knew it. Unless Biggs was around, Luke would have to learn how to fight his own battles. He just wished Fixer didn't wield so much power with the rest of the guys. After all, the only reason he got teased by the rest was because Fixer didn't like him. Secretly, Luke wondered if Fix felt threatened by him, and that's why he used his size and clout in the group to his advantage. Usually, though, Luke assumed that the reason he was picked on was simply that Luke just didn't fit in with the rest. After all, he wasn't like any of them at all. Except Biggs, of course.

"So what were you all talking about?" Tank asked the others, changing the subject and taking the attention off of Luke.

Luke mutely sat back down, defeated but thankful that he was once again no longer the focus Fixer's conversation.

"Boonta Eve," Deak answered. "We were talking about how only non-humans can race pods."

Tank frowned, puzzled. "Why can't humans race?"

Fixer looked over at Luke with an oily grin. "Tell 'im, Wormie."

Luke met Fixer's stare, seeing at once how the older boy was deliberately pushing him. Trying to look unfazed, he shrugged his shoulders. "Well, usually, humans don't have the reflexes needed to control a pod. Although there have been a few humans to race."

"No way!" interjected Windy. "Humans have never raced. They'd get killed."

"That's not true," Luke argued before he could stop himself. "I read somewhere that there were a few humans who raced."

Fixer leaned in closer to Luke with a sneer. "Oh yeah? Who?"

"I don't know who," Luke stammered in defense.

Windy laughed, "See, he's making it up!"

"I am not!" Luke countered, annoyed that they refused to believe him.

"Hey, watch it, Wormie," Fixer intoned darkly.

In response, Luke decided he'd had enough of Fixer and his group. He bolted up from his seat and rapidly headed for the lunchroom exit. The only thing he cared about was getting away from Fixer and his bunch as fast as his legs could carry him. He hated sitting with them, he hated being picked on by them, and he hated the fact that Fixer made him feel just two inches tall with that maddening nickname, "Wormie." Why couldn't they just leave him alone if they disliked him so much?

Without warning, Luke felt someone grasp the back of his tunic, and he jerked to a halt. He knew it was Fixer even before the older boy spun him around to see his face.

"Where do you think you're going, Wormie?" the dark haired boy teased.

Luke began to tremble, but it wasn't from fear. His temper was rapidly getting the better of him and it was all he could do to keep from lashing out at Fixer. "Back off," he bit out from between clenched teeth.

"Or what, Wormie?" Fixer taunted in reply.

Luke felt himself snap. Seething, he howled and would have decked Fixer right then and there. But before he could let loose on his tormenter, a pair of hands grabbed his arms from behind and pulled him back just as Fixer was roughly pushed against the wall in a blur of motion. Blinking in confusion and anger, Luke tried to pull free, but stopped as he saw a teenaged girl advance on Fixer.

Her green eyes blazed with a fire to match the flaming auburn hair that hung in two plaits just past her shoulders. She wore the tunic and pants of a moisture farmer's daughter, well worn and slightly oversized. She towered over the thirteen year-old Fixer and spoke menacingly, "Or I'll ram you into the wall again, you little punk! You heard the kid. Back off!"

Luke's eyes widened in recognition. It was one of the girls from yesterday who had pulled him out of the cabinet. He looked behind him to see who was holding his arms, and, sure enough, it was the girl with the long dark hair. Anger was quickly replaced with mortification. He didn't need a couple of girls fighting his battles for him. Feeling the heat rise in his cheeks, he quickly pulled out of the brunette's grasp and tore off through the lunchroom exit and down the hall.

He could hear the sound of pursuing footsteps and increased his pace.

"Hey, kid! Wait up!" the redhead's voice called out.

Luke continued to run.

"You know, you can get in trouble for running in the halls!"

Incensed, Luke skidded to a halt and spun around. The girl was still several meters away, so he yelled, "Leave me alone!"

"Nice sense of gratitude you have there, kid," she quipped back with a lopsided grin as she continued to approach him. "Are you always this friendly?"

Her demeanor only irritated him more. "I could have handled it, you know!"

"What? And end up in the trash bin this time?" she asked incredulously.

"I can take care of myself!"

The girl stopped about a meter from him and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Yeah, sure you can."

At that moment, the brown-haired girl came walking down the hallway, jerking her thumb in the direction of the lunchroom. "Stars, that kid is creep," she said as she approached. "You should have heard some of the things that just came out of that little jerk's mouth. And in front of a girl, too!"

The other girl gave her friend a wry grin before returning her attention to Luke. "So what's your name, kid? I seriously doubt it's Wormie."

Luke folded his arms and scowled. "What's it to you?"

The reaction from her was not what he had expected. She chuckled and continued walking toward him. "You know, you're really not that intimidating," she said as she slowly came closer and closer to where he stood. At last she stopped just inches from him and looked down into his bewildered face. "So what's your name?"

Luke looked up into her green eyes feeling suddenly and completely lost. Who was this girl, and why did she even care? Worse yet, why did he want to trust her? "Luke," he found himself answering in a very small voice that made him cringe to hear it come out of his mouth.

He was even more taken aback when she took his small hand in hers and shook it firmly. "I'm Grace," she said, and pointing to the girl behind her, she added, "and this is Lara."

He studied the two girls for a long moment before favoring them each with a slight grin. "Hi," he said, a bit more forcefully this time. "And thank you."

With a toss of her long brown hair, Lara replied, "Don't mention it, kid."

There was something about her that turned Luke's slight grin into a beaming smile. Maybe it was the fact that she was stunningly beautiful, more beautiful than any of the girls in Luke's own class. Or maybe it was the fact that she was talking to him. Pretty girls never talked to him, let alone beautiful girls. His eyes were still locked on Lara when he vaguely heard Grace talking to him again.

"Listen, why don't we give you a ride home from school today?"

Luke jerked his attention back to the redhead. "Uh, no. No, thanks," he stammered.

"Look, after what happened yesterday, I'd feel better if we took you home," she pressed.

Biting his lip, Luke thought it over. He'd have to be an idiot to refuse a ride from two girls several years ahead of him. Then again, if Uncle Owen saw him in a strange speeder . . .."Sure," he blurted before he could come up with another reason to say no.

Grace smiled. "Great, then we'll see you after school on the west side of the building."

Luke nodded. "Yeah."

There was an awkward silence as Luke continued to stare at the two teenage girls who were going to give him a ride home. How had his luck changed so rapidly?

At last, Lara spoke up, grabbing Grace's arm. "Well, bye, then."

"Yeah, bye," Luke replied breathlessly, watching as they turned and left with puzzled expressions on their faces. After they disappeared from view, he let out the breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding. His emotions all awhirl, he turned around and walked toward his afternoon classroom, pondering the strange turn of events.

He, Luke Skywalker, was going home with two girls!

"Yes!"


	3. Chapter 3: The Ride Home

Saving Grace—Chapter 3: The Ride Home

By KnightMara

A/N: The disclaimer still exists . . . this is George's world, and I'm just playing in it. Thanks to all who have reviewed!

Deja: I'm glad you are enjoying young Luke. He's really fun to write—a bit awkward and uncertain . . .the little kid who grows up to be a hero.

LilPKLoser: Yeah, there's more.

Jelp: I have, and here it is.

Hermione: Yeah, don't ask me why, but Luke always struck me as the type of kid who would get shoved into lockers and such. He's just such an outsider.

KTSkywalker: Well, you've got it.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

"You okay back there, Luke?" Grace called from the front passenger's seat of Lara's speeder as they raced along the desert landscape.

"Yeah," Luke shouted back over the wind from his seat just behind Lara. In fact, he was quite comfortable. Lara's speeder was a top of the line model, with enough room for eight people, or so Luke estimated. With the top down and the wind blowing his blonde hair back wildly about his face, he was actually enjoying himself. Not to mention the fact that he was seated right behind one of the most beautiful girls he had ever met. Especially with her hair twisted into a neat little knot at the back of her head to keep it in place as they drove, she was absolutely mesmerizing.

"So how far out do your parents live?"

Grace's question pulled his attention away from Lara. "Uh, they're not my parents, and they're a little further out. It's a moisture farm."

Grace turned around in her seat and grinned at him. "So I gathered. All you find out here are farms this far into the desert," she told him. "I live on one, too." She turned around but continued yelling back to him. "They're such a pain, though. All the work. And it hardly ever pays off. Lara's folks have got it easy."

"Why? What do they do?" Luke asked, genuinely curious. Lara, of course, hadn't seemed like the moisture farming type to begin with.

"Import/Export," Lara replied over the sound of the wind. "My dad works for Darklighter."

"Really?" His eyebrows arched in surprise.

Grace answered, "Yeah, lucky her. And the next week is going to be really sweet because her dad is working overtime while Darklighter is off on some trip."

"Jealous much?" Lara teased with a sidelong glance at her friend.

"Spoiled much?" Grace teased back, matching her tone.

Lara laughed. "Yeah, I am! I admit it, and I love it! So you can just kiss my spoiled, pampered—"

"Do you know the Darklighters?" Luke interrupted.

Pausing, Lara shrugged her shoulders. "A little. I tend to run with a different crowd, though."

Grace chuckled. "Yeah, the sand-baked serfs like me."

"Beats elitist queens like Tela."

"Ugh, she makes me sick," Grace agreed with a scrunch of her nose that Luke could see even from behind. Then she cocked her head backward and asked, "So what about you, Luke? Got any friends besides the Tusken-bait from the cafeteria?"

"Actually, yeah," he replied sheepishly. "Biggs Darklighter is my best friend."

"No kidding!" Lara exclaimed. "Now that's one Darklighter that I can stand. Though, no offense, Luke, he's a bit on the weird side."

Grace shifted in her seat, throwing her arm over the headrest so she could look at both Lara and Luke. "Is he the one that wants to be a pilot?"

Lara nodded. "Kid's thirteen and his dad is already trying to groom him for the business. It'll never happen though. That kid has his head in the stars."

Luke smiled hearing this. How often had the same been said about him? "That's Biggs," he agreed.

Grace seemed to study his wistful expression. "So let me guess. You want to be a pilot, too."

"Eventually," Luke answered honestly. "My father was a pilot, so why shouldn't I be?"

"Sweet!" Lara laughed. "What kind of pilot?"

Luke shrugged. "I'm not really sure. I never knew him, actually. Or my mother. I live with my aunt and uncle."

A strange silence engulfed the speeder as he said this, and he was aware that the two girls up front had exchanged unreadable glances with each other in response to his explanation. It made him uncomfortable to think that they might be pitying him. Well, of course they were pitying him, a small voice in the back of his mind cried out. They were only driving him home because they didn't want him to take another beating from Fixer. Glumly, Luke sank back into the seat, feeling small and insignificant. The novelty of the experience had worn off, leaving only the harsh reality that these two girls had taken pity on him, and nothing more.

"Well, then we've got something in common, kid," Grace chirped, abruptly breaking into his thoughts. "I live with my grandparents. My mom and dad got killed in a shuttle crash two years ago."

"I'm sorry," Luke stammered, a little taken aback by the frank manner in which she'd just spoken. He'd always felt a little awkward and emotional when speaking about his parents, and he'd never even known them—didn't even have a small fragment of a memory about either of them. Grace, though, seemed unaffected by the fact that she'd been orphaned.

"Yeah, well," she commented with a shrug, turning her head away from him and looking out into the desert, "it's old news."

Not knowing what to say in response, Luke remained quiet.

"Hey, is Dar still following you around like a lovesick sandcat?" Lara broke in, changing the subject.

Grace chuckled and groaned simultaneously, a sound that was rather amusing to Luke. "Is he ever! How many times can a girl say she's not interested?" She still hadn't turned her head back toward the occupants of the speeder, but her voice sounded cheerfully annoyed.

"About a million," Lara laughed. "Believe me, I should know."

Luke imagined that she probably did. Who wouldn't want to follow her around?

"Yeah," retorted Grace looking back at Lara, "but you've got guys like Mik and Walson and, Force help us, Devan drooling over you. I've got Dar. Sweet, scrawny, geeky Dar."

"I don't know," Lara countered in a voice that was casually conspiratorial. "Devan seemed pretty impressed with what you did in the lunch room today. Said it was sexy to watch a girl come to kid's defense."

Luke fought the urge to slump in his seat as a sick, twisting feeling gripped his stomach. Yeah, he had been a pity case, all right. A mere kid that Grace and Lara had felt the urge to defend. Little Wormie. In spite of Lara's mesmerizing beauty, he wanted nothing more than to get out of this speeder as quickly as possible. Any interrogation by Uncle Owen would be preferable to this.

"He really said that?" Grace asked her friend, and Luke could hear the desperation she was trying to keep out of her voice.

Before Lara could answer, Luke recognized one of his uncle's vaporators in the distance. "Uh, hang a left just past that vaporator," he called out. "It's the easternmost part of the property."

"Gotcha, kid," Lara said as she complied a few seconds later.

In a few moments, Luke could see the faint outline of the homestead, and he was practically itching to get out of the speeder. Girls or no girls, he didn't want to be anyone's charity. As soon as the main dwelling was clearly in sight, Luke nudged Lara's shoulder. "Just let me out here," he said.

"You sure?"

Luke nodded, and Lara slowed the speeder to a stop. Luke had already hopped out as soon as she had applied the brakes, and was moving quickly away from them. "Thanks for the lift," he said as politely as he could while retreating.

"Sure thing, kid," Lara laughed as she smiled her beautiful smile at him.

His cheeks reddened in response as he spun around and hurried away from them.

"See ya' around, Luke," he heard Grace holler just before the speeder engine roared back to life carrying the two girls back to civilization. With a sigh, Luke descended the steps that led into his uncle's home.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8

A/N: I'm not sure how long this story is going to be. I guess it all depends on my muse.


	4. Chapter 4: The Lesson

Saving Grace—Chapter 4: The Lesson

By KnightMara

Disclaimer: Same old, same old. I don't own anything in the GFFA. It all belongs to TMRFA. . .or GL, for short.

A/N: This chapter comes as a result of a single line from ANH, when Luke asks, "You fought in the Clone Wars?" I always wondered what Luke knew about the Clone Wars, and how he knew if he was living such a sheltered life. Then, after watching the prequels, this came to mind. It may be a weird interpretation, but not _entirely_ implausible.

--

--

"Look, Miss Landskipper, I do not know what else to tell you." The instructor's voice was purely detached and professional, as was expected of all Imperial Instructional Personnel. Grace rolled her eyes, even as the instructor continued, "Either retake the exam, or fail the course. The choice is up to you."

"With all due respect," Grace began, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice, "I passed the exam. I don't see why I have to take it over."

The expression on the instructor's face was one of forced patience as she explained, "Miss Landskipper, I have been your instructor for the past three standard months, and I do not believe that this score is an accurate reflection of your ability."

"You mean you don't think I'm smart enough to do well," Grace bit out, this time making no effort to hide her irritation.

"This is a perfect score, Miss Landskipper," the instructor replied tonelessly.

"And?"

"And you have never shown the aptitude necessary to achieve a perfect score," she finished.

Grace drew her shoulders back and stated defiantly, "I studied."

The instructor's face remained impassive as she folded her hands upon the desk and said, "Then you may study again and retake the exam. That is my final word."

Grace promptly spun on her heal and headed out of the classroom, bypassing Lara, who was leaning against the wall just beyond the door in order to put as much distance between herself and that Imperial lackey as possible.

"She didn't buy it, huh?" the dark haired girl asked, falling into step beside Grace as the other girl strode angrily down the corridor.

"And why didn't you get caught?" Grace snarled, refusing to even look at her friend or to slow down. "You cheated, too."

Lara shrugged, though Grace didn't see it. "Got a few wrong on purpose."

"Yeah, well I needed a perfect score to pull my percentages up!" Grace spun around angrily to face Lara. "I'm going to fail that woman's class!"

"No, you're not," Lara said calmly. "So you retake the exam; so what?"

"So what?" Grace repeated incredulously. "So I retake it and fail it, that's what. And prove to that piece of bantha dung that I cheated the first time." She turned and continued down the corridor.

"Grace, come on," the other soothed, once again walking beside her. "You're not going to fail it. I mean, we did study . . . even if it was just the test that we studied."

"No, you may have studied," Grace argued, stopping again. "I simply memorized the answers in order. Lara, I don't know anything about Clone Wars Literature, and you know it. I haven't even cracked the seal on a single textcard this entire class!"

With a toss of her chestnut hair, Lara laughed, "Well, then you have a lot of work to do tonight."

Her friend's demeanor only fueled Grace's irritation. "Oh, sure, Lara. Laugh it up! You're just lucky you didn't get caught, too, or you'd be in the same mess."

Lara's response was a smug grin. "But I didn't, so I'm not."

Grace's green eyes narrowed at her friend. "Well, you're still going to help me get out of this mess," she said. Noting that Lara had suddenly looked away guiltily, she added, "Aren't you?"

Lara grimaced, still not meeting the other girl's eyes. "Well, I would, but I really can't."

"What are you talking about?" Grace demanded, feeling herself grow pale at the thought of her friend abandoning her like this.

Lara was intently studying her nails as she answered, "Well, my father is having this big dinner tonight with the Darklighters, and I have to go. The whole family is going."

Feeling an explosive surge of frustration, Grace fisted her hands into her auburn hair and spun around to kick the wall before turning back around and sinking to the corridor floor. "Well that's just great!" she spat, leaning her head back against the wall. "You just go off and abandon your friend because the Darklighters are back in town."

"Hey, don't blame me—" the other began, but Grace cut her off.

"No, don't bother. I can't talk to you right now."

Putting her hands on her hips, Lara argued, "Grace, don't be like that."

"No, don't talk to me," Grace retorted coldly, fisting her hands in her hair again and resting her elbows on her knees. "Just go."

She had the hollow satisfaction of hearing Lara huff and walk away, leaving Grace alone in the corridor to deal with her anger. She was angry with the teacher, angry with Lara, and angry with herself. And of the three, she supposed that she was mostly angry with herself. After all, it was her own fault she was in this mess. No one had forced her not to do her work all term, no one had forced her to cheat on her test, and no one had forced her to blame everyone else for her mistakes. Squeezing her eyes shut, she banged the back of her head against the wall in a dull, slow rhythm as she whispered, "Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot."

"Biggs, you promised!"

The youthful and somewhat familiar voice echoing from somewhere in the building made her pause. She opened her eyes and glanced around, but she saw no one.

"I'm sorry, Luke," a different voice replied to the first. "My dad's making me do this."

"But you just got back," the first voice whined, and Grace had to snicker. Kids, she thought.

"I know," responded the second voice in a tone that echoed Grace's own reaction to the other's whine. "Look, I promise I'll make it up to you."

Grace could not hear the response to this, but after a few moments, the second voice said, "Fine, Luke, be that way."

A few seconds later, Grace saw a dark-haired kid round the corner and hurry past her towards the school doors. He was dressed sharply, in a manner that bespoke of wealth and affluence. Recognition dawned as the kid exited the building. That was Biggs Darklighter.

Casting a glance back to the corner from which Biggs had emerged, Grace was not surprised to see a small, towheaded boy walking dejectedly down the same path Darklighter had just taken. He seemed to be studying his shoes as he walked, and he had nearly passed Grace without seeing her before she stopped him with her voice.

"Abandoned, too, I see."

The kid, whom she remembered as Luke, paused, and his blue eyes met hers. "Oh," he said, startled, and she saw the recognition dawn in his eyes as a faint blush crept up to his cheeks. "Hi." He then frowned, puzzled. "Uh, what're you doing sitting on the floor?"

With a self-deprecating chuckle, Grace answered, "Good question, kid." She then indicated the exit with her chin. "That your friend Biggs Darklighter who just left?"

The kid nodded his head.

"So what happened?"

The kid however, crossed the corridor and set his knapsack on the floor before dropping to sit beside her with his back against the wall. "You first," he said.

Grace chuckled again. "Fair enough," she agreed. "One of the Empire's finest is making me retake an exam because she thinks I cheated on it the first time."

"Why does she think that?" Luke asked.

"Because I cheated on it the first time," she answered honestly. "And now my friend Lara—you met her, remember?" At Luke's nod, she continued, "Well, she can't help me because she has plans with her family. Which means I'm all alone in this mess with no way out of it."

"Ah," the kid replied by way of understanding. "What's the test on?"

Grace barely stifled a groan. "Clone Wars Literature."

"Oh. That's pretty neat."

Taken aback by the kid's unexpected response, Grace looked at him in bewilderment. "What do you know about Clone Wars Literature?"

The kid shrugged, picking at a thread that dangled from the sleeve of his tunic. "I've read some of it. My uncle doesn't know—he says it's all propaganda, which it is . . . I think. But I still think it's pretty cool."

"Wait," Grace interrupted with a shake of her head, disbelief coloring her voice. "You've read it? What have you read?"

The kid's blue eyes looked upwards as he thought to recall. "Some of the classics," he answered, "Uh, _Birth of an Empire,_ _The_ _Triumph of the Emperor_, _Death of An Imperial Youth, Deception in the Republic."_

Grace grinned at his reference to these as classics. Most of the titles were less than ten years old. But they were all familiar titles—she recalled most of them from her class. "Any others?"

"Yeah," he replied. "But I don't think they'd be on the test."

"Why not?"

"Because the Empire is made out to be pretty bad in them," he answered almost guiltily.

Grace's eyebrows went up. Where had the kid found those? She didn't ask, however, as she started going through her bag and pulled out her datapad. "You have a few minutes, kid?"

Luke nodded.

"Think you could help me study?"

Again, the kid nodded his fair head. "What do you need to know?"

Grace pulled up the information from the test that she had stored in her datapad and said, "I need to understand these answers." She passed the datapad over to him so he could look at it.

His blue eyes widened. "You stole the instructor's test?" he gasped in awe.

Grace grinned sheepishly. "Yeah. But now I need to actually understand it."

The kid's look of surprise shifted to a slightly approving smile before he looked back at the data in his hands. It was almost as if he wished he could be so bold. The thought amused Grace; the kid seemed as honest as a Jawa was dirty. She doubted he had ever snuck an extra helping from the cafeteria line.

"'In _Birth of an Empire_," Luke was suddenly reading aloud, "which of the following best describes the author's attitude toward the Separatists?' Okay, the answer she has is 'disdainful', which I think is because the Separatists are cowards, selfish, and stupid throughout the whole story. I mean, there's this one part where there's a whole thing about how the Separatists used droids because they were too afraid to fight for themselves, and how they trusted the programming too much, which meant that if you destroyed the main ship, all of the armies just shut down. It was pretty funny, actually. There's actually a huge description of one of the battles in _Death of An Imperial Youth_, where that happens and . . . what?"

The kid had paused and was looking at her curiously. Grace suddenly realized she'd been staring at him with her mouth open. "Nothing," she said, quickly shaking herself. "I'm just . . . uh . . . impressed."

"Why?"

The kid seemed so genuinely shocked by this that Grace had to smile. "Well," she answered, "you're just a Seventh Year, and this is Tenth Year stuff. I mean, I haven't even read the material."

The kid just shrugged his shoulders and said, "Yeah, well, I get grounded by my uncle a lot. It gets kinda' boring unless you have something to do. I mean, you can only clean the same droid so many times, so sometimes I read."

"Okay, but why Clone Wars stuff?"

The kid's face lit up into a huge grin. "Lots of space battles! And I mean lots!"

Grace's amused grin matched his. "Ah, I remember now. You said you wanted to be a pilot."

"Yeah!" came Luke's emphatic response. "I'm gonna' get myself a skyhopper one of these days!"

Grace just laughed at that. When she had finished laughing, she looked back at the datapad and said, "Okay, so the Separatists were stupid cowards who relied upon droids too much in _Birth of an Empire._ What's next?"

For the next hour, Luke went over each of the test questions and gave background information to explain each of the correct answers. Grace furiously scribbled everything he said onto a sheet of flimsiplast, pausing only to ask him for clarification. She was disappointed when she found that he had not read _Naboo's Finest_, but there were only two questions from that piece, and she did her best to try to figure out how the answer could have been reached based upon the information in the other stories. They had just reached the end of the test when Luke glanced at his chrono.

"Uh-oh," he groaned. "I've got to go."

"Someone picking you up?" she asked as she gathered her things together and dumped them into her bag.

"Yeah," he answered, hastily getting to his feet and throwing his bag over his shoulder. "I was supposed to be hanging out with Biggs. I hope my uncle doesn't find out Biggs left a long time ago. He might ground me again for lying."

Grace stood up beside him, momentarily surprised when she towered over him. Over the past hour, she'd nearly forgotten about their age difference—he'd practically dwarfed her with his knowledge. "Well," she assured him, "you didn't lie. It's not your fault your friend left."

The kid only shrugged—Grace had noted that he shrugged quite often, almost as though he were reinforcing an image, though Grace could not quite tell what that image was supposed to be.

Never-the-less, Grace held her hand out to him. "Anyway, thanks, kid," she said as he took her hand. "I owe you one."

Luke, however, shook his head. "Nah, we'll call it even," he suggested. "You did rescue me from Fixer, even if it was humiliating to be saved by a girl."

"Almost as humiliating as being tutored by a kid three years below you?" she asked with a wink. "Let's just say, I know how you feel, kid."

After a quick handshake, Luke said, "Well, good luck." He then turned around and headed toward the door to the school rather quickly, his knapsack bouncing as he hurried down the corridor. He had just reached the door, when he turned and called back, "Uh, your friend . . . uh . . .does she . . .uh, never mind."

Grace groaned inwardly. Did every boy in the school have a crush on Lara? "Does she what?"

The silhouetted form of the boy in the doorway replied, "Nothing. I'll . . . uh, see you around, then." And with that, he was gone.

Grace chuckled and slowly made her way out of the building. For a brief moment, she felt a pang of empathy for the kid. He didn't have a chance—and not just with Lara, but with any girl. He was too unremarkable when it came to the things that attracted people; and Grace could relate to that. She had watched enough boys throw themselves at Lara even while Grace was standing right beside her, and she suspected that Luke had experienced the same with the Darklighter kid, or even that bully—Fixer, she remembered.

She grinned. Funny how the two most unremarkable people had managed to step in and save each other in awkward ways, she thought as she left the school.

--

--

**A/N:** Again, reviews would be greatly appreciated, especially for this chapter.

**KTskywalker:** Yeah, I felt so bad for Luke in that last chapter. That's why he kind of has the upper hand in this one, although he is still very much the outsider.

**Deja Vu:** It's okay. We've all had those moments.

Neo-Paladin: Yeah, this story is brand-spankin' new. I'm glad you're enjoying it. 

**Sara T:** Luke is just a fun character to write—especially between the trilogies, since we can only speculate about what happened. As long as my muse keeps spouting ideas at me, I'll keep writing.

**Hermione: **Those scenes are what inspired me to write my first "young Luke" story—along with the SW Radio Drama by Brian Daley. Poor "Wormie."


	5. Chapter 5: Changes

**Saving Grace—Chapter 5: Changes**

By KnightMara

Disclaimer: Do I really need to write another disclaimer? Okay, if you recognize it, it's not mine. Done.

A/N: Yeah, I know it's been years. But I woke up this morning and had to write this chapter of a story I had long ago put to bed. It's hot off my fingertips, and I hope someone out there reads it. If not, well, it was a fun way to spend a rainy day off.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Luke slung his knapsack over his shoulder and snatched a pallie from the fruit bowl in the curiously empty kitchen. He had somehow overslept, which meant he was going to have to hustle if he was going to make it to school on time. A quick glance showed him that Aunt Beru had not packed his lunch today, so he popped open a cupboard and scooped out a few credits from the jar she kept them in, thankful that he was finally tall enough to reach it without hopping onto the counter. At fourteen, he was already catching up to Uncle Owen, a fact that he was careful not to point out to his guardian. The last time Aunt Beru had made a comment about Luke's height, his uncle had gotten rather testy about it, though Luke was at a loss as to why.

Pocketing the credits as he left the kitchen, he called out, "Bye, Aunt Beru. I'm off."

He stopped short, however, when he reached the dining table. Both his aunt and uncle were seated, and Luke felt his heart do a little stutter-beat. Uncle Owen should have been out working the farm already, and Aunt Beru never sat at the table but at meal times. Immediately, he began pouring over recent events, trying to remember what it was he might have done that would warrant both of his guardians being in the wrong place at the wrong time of day, their expressions grim, their gazes fixed on him.

"Have a seat, Luke," his uncle said.

Luke took a slow, worried step toward the table. "I'm gonna' be late."

His uncle shook his head. "No, you won't. Have a seat."

Attempting to lighten the mood, Luke cocked his head and asked, "Does this mean I get to drive the landspeeder today?"

This time it was his aunt who said, with a gentle smile, "Luke, sit down, dear."

Luke slowly, nervously, set his knapsack on the ground and moved to take a seat at the table. Shifting his gaze from his aunt to his uncle and back, he continued to scour his memory for whatever it was he had done. Coming up with nothing, he broke the awkward silence that had descended upon the table as he sat. "Did I do something wrong?"

Aunt Beru's soft laugh dispelled the tension that had been mounting. "No, dear. It's nothing like that."

"Luke," his uncle cut in, "you won't be going to school today."

Now, Luke was certain something was wrong, although his aunt's calm demeanor had him frantically searching for what it might be.

"In fact," Uncle Owen continued, "you won't be going back at all."

"What?" Luke exclaimed in shock. Surely he had heard wrong.

His aunt reached across the table to pat Luke's hand. "Your uncle and I have decided that it's time you focused on your work here on the farm."

Luke blinked at her incredulously. "But," he began.

"Luke, we all know that going to that school is just a waste of your time," Uncle Owen said.

"Look, I know my scores dropped a few months ago," Luke said, pleadingly, "but I've brought them up."

"It's not your scores, boy," his uncle insisted. "Your aunt and I know that you're bright. And that's just it. You're too bright to be spending your days in that school, letting them fill your head with nonsense."

"But, Uncle Owen," Luke argued, panicking, "I have to go to school! I'm only fourteen!"

"And you're already in Tenth Year, Luke," his uncle pointed out. "You've only got two years left, and those years aren't going to teach you a thing. All they'll do is fill your head with Imperial doctrine so that they can ship you off to some Imperial university or naval academy or who knows what else!"

Luke tensed, feeling his cheeks flush in anger. "I understand," he bit out. "You want me stuck here instead. Stuck on this farm!"

His aunt quickly intervened, "Luke, dear, we don't want to lose you to the Empire."

"Lose me?" Luke cried. "I'm fourteen years-old! The Empire won't have anything to do with me for at least another three years! And why can't I go to the Academy or a university? How is this farm so much better for me than an education?"

"It's not an education, Luke," his uncle argued. "It's indoctrination! And I won't let my nephew become a slave to that!"

The warmth in Luke's cheeks had spread to his ears. "You just said I was bright! Now I'm too stupid to think for myself?"

"No, but we want to give you the _chance_ to think for yourself!"

Luke was far too angry now to listen. "You don't want me to have any chance at all! You want me to be a moisture farmer, and you want to make it impossible for me to do anything else!"

"You can still keep up with your classmates," his aunt assured him. "I can get materials at the library, and you can study at home if it means that much to you."

"Why can't I just go to school with my friends, then?" Luke demanded.

"I've already told you," said his uncle sternly.

Luke then rose from his seat. "And what if I don't listen and I go anyway?"

"You can't," Uncle Owen told him. "You've already been withdrawn."

That was unexpected. Luke let the information wash over him, numbly sinking back down into the chair. "When? How?"

"Your aunt and I applied for an Income-Based Exclusion," his uncle answered. "The response arrived yesterday. You are no longer enrolled."

The process to have a student removed based on financial necessity took months, months during which they had said nothing to him. "Why didn't you tell me?" Luke whispered, his feelings of betrayal coloring his words.

"There was no need," Uncle Owen said, "and it's done. Your withdrawal is official, and you will no longer be going."

Furious that they had so underhandedly taken control of his life, Luke pushed himself up from the table without another word and left the room, his knapsack and fruit forgotten behind him. He went straight to his room and locked the door, a testimony to Luke's aptitude with machinery, for none of the doors had been designed with locking mechanisms. Luke, however, had rewired the door so that, when programmed from the inside to lock, it would fail to open from the outside. The task had been accomplished while he had been grounded, and his uncle had not yet managed to undo Luke's handiwork, much to his consternation.

Sure enough, there was a pounding on the door a few seconds after Luke had thrown himself on his bed.

"Luke, we're not finished talking!"

Luke glared at his ceiling as he hollered back to his uncle, "Yes, we are!"

"Open this door!"

"What's the point?" Luke retorted sharply. "I'm not going anywhere, am I?"

He heard his uncle mutter something in Huttese, and then he was gone and Luke was left to simmer in his anger.

They had no right, none whatsoever, to pull him out of school without talking to him first. Granted, school had always seemed rather annoying and pointless, but it had been both an escape from the daily boredom of the farm and his ticket off Tatooine.

He glowered at his ceiling, wondering if anyone would even care about his absence. Luke Skywalker had few friends, and none were in his own class, so he doubted that his classmates would miss him. On top of which, Biggs was no longer in school, and Tank was in Twelfth Year.

He sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. Biggs was probably in Anchorhead right now, but Biggs would listen to him, would understand his anger and frustration and helplessness. Luke got up and unlocked the door, practically stalking to the kitchen where his aunt, predictably stood.

She looked up at him in surprise.

"I'm taking the swoop to Anchorhead," he said stiffly. "Unless, of course, you've already planned out my activities for the day without telling me."

The disappointed look that crossed his aunt's face in response to his sarcasm might have made him feel guilty on any other day. "Try not to draw too much attention to yourself," she said.

"I promise not to walk up to a truancy officer and boast about my newly acquired freedom," he replied bitterly. He then spun on his heel and headed for the garage, grateful that he did not run into his uncle. He assumed that Uncle Owen had already gone back out to work. Then again, it wasn't his uncle's life that had just undergone an upheaval.

It didn't take long for Luke to arrive at Anchorhead, as he had tried to blow off some of his anger by throttling the swoop up to maximum speed for the trip. He was still annoyed, however, as he hopped off his swoop, and he grew even more so as he searched the outpost for signs of his friend without any luck. Biggs's speeder was not outside Tosche Station, nor was it outside the cantina Luke was far too young to enter. In fact, the more he walked around in the heat of the Tatooine day, the more obvious it became that Biggs was nowhere to be found.

"Great! Just great!" Luke snarled, kicking a rock with his foot and watching it send up a cloud of sand as it bounced along the street.

His stomach gave a loud rumble, and Luke remembered with a start that he had eaten nothing this morning. Digging into his pocket, he felt the credits he had taken from the jar, and deciding that they would have been spent on lunch anyway, he turned and headed toward the tiny diner that was the only establishment in Anchorhead dedicated exclusively to serving food.

Like everything else in the outpost, it was small, sand-beaten, and depressing in appearance. It was, however, Luke's only option, save going home. It took his eyes a few moments to adjust to the dim light within, and, blinking way the lingering glare from the sun, he approached the small counter at the far end and hopped up onto one of the beaten stools. Looking around, he saw that the diner was empty, save for an older woman sitting in the corner and sipping caff rather noisily. The only other noises seemed to be coming from the kitchen, and Luke heard the uneven drone of conversation as he reached over and took a menu.

He was attempting to determine his best option given his limited means when the kitchen conversation became discernable as at least one of its participants approached the counter.

"So if he comes back in here, you'll slap him around for me?" a female voice laughingly asked.

A male voice hollered back from the kitchen, "For you, Red, anything."

"You're my hero, Mal," the woman replied. Then, although Luke had not yet looked up from his menu, she asked, "Made up your mind, kid?"

Luke dragged his fingers through his hair as he studied the menu. "Not yet," he said, digging into his pocket and pulling out the credits. He kept his face lowered in embarrassment as he asked, "What would you recommend for someone who is very hungry, but only has this much money?"

The woman took a moment, then called back to the kitchen, "One Tatoo Stew, Mal!"

Luke quickly scanned the menu to identify what she had just ordered for him, and he saw that it looked appealing enough.

"Skiving off classes today, kid?" she asked as Luke replaced the menu.

"Sort of," Luke replied with a shrug, looking up at her for the first time. He blinked at her for a second, the young woman's auburn hair, green eyes, and freckled face looking oddly familiar. "Wait, do I know you?"

She, too, was staring at him with the same look of recognition. She snapped her finger and smiled. "Luke, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Luke said with a nod.

She jerked a thumb at herself. "Grace," she said.

Luke grinned, remembering her. "Grace, of course," he said with an embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, I remember you. It's been a long time." At least two years, he mused. "Haven't seen you around."

"Well, that's what happens when you flunk out of the Empire's finest educational institutions," she replied, chuckling.

Luke's eyebrows shot up. "Is that what happened?"

Grace nodded. "Yeah, couldn't be bothered studying," she answered without any hint of awkwardness or shame. "Especially when my grandmother got sick. Everything else just seemed more important."

"Oh," was all Luke could say.

"And then when she passed away, I had to help my grandfather with the farm," she continued. "And it wasn't like I was ever going to need any of that ridiculous stuff they kept preaching at us, so when they told me I'd have to repeat Tenth Year yet again, I just figured I was through."

"I'm sorry."

She waved the words away. "It's old news," she said, leaning on the counter. "So what about you? Why are you here instead of down at the ol' brainwashing facility?"

Luke folded his arms on the counter and grimaced. "My aunt and uncle pulled me out of school this morning."

"Really?" she asked in surprise. "What are you, like, fifteen?"

"Fourteen," he answered. "Just finishing up Tenth Year, actually."

"Wow," she replied with a whistle. "Didn't even let you finish the year."

Luke shook his head ruefully. "Apparently they were just waiting for approval on a Financial-Based Exemption."

Her green eyes widened. "Farm's not doing so well, huh?"

"That's just an excuse," Luke told her with a frown. "The truth is they were afraid of me getting indoctrinated by the Empire."

Grace nearly doubled over in laughter. "What did you do?" she asked between chuckles. "Come home with Imperial pamphlets? Try to get them to join one of the odd little committees they keep trying to establish out here?"

"Of course not," Luke answered defensively. "Do I look like the kind of person who would believe any of that stuff? I'm not an idiot, Grace!"

She held up her hands in a placating gesture, although she still smiled. "Sorry, Mr. Temper."

"Yes, I'm angry," he acknowledged. "That school was my best chance off this rock, and now it looks like I'm going to be stuck being a moisture farmer for the rest of my life!"

"Hey, kid, there are worse things to be," she told him. "I mean, look at me. I'm a moisture farmer _and_ a server in a dingy little diner. It wasn't enough for me to have one lousy job. I have two lousy jobs."

A voice yelled out from the kitchen, "Hey, watch it, Red."

"No offense, Mal," she called back, grinning.

"Why both?" Luke asked, puzzled.

"Honestly," she said with a sigh, leaning on the counter again, "because Darklighter's buying the property back from my grandfather, and we're just maintaining it until the purchase is complete. Pop's too old to keep the place running well enough to make it pay off, and Mal, here, pays me pretty good. Enough for me to be able to rent a small place that's big enough for my grandfather and me, anyway."

Luke nodded slowly, surprised by how calmly she seemed to accept the cards life had dealt her.

She laughed again. "Don't give me that pitying look, Luke. Stars!"

"Sorry," Luke replied, blushing.

"Order's up!" the man in the kitchen yelled.

Grace left and returned with a large bowl filled with a thick stew, a pile of crackers, and a glass of water.

"Thanks," Luke said as she set it down in front of him.

"I'll be right back," she said. "Gotta' go check on my other customer. This place is just _so_ busy!"

"Cool it, Red!" came the holler from the kitchen, and Grace laughed as she bounded off toward the older woman.

Luke dug into the stew, and found it to be pretty decent. It was a far cry from his aunt's cooking, but it was satisfying enough. It was nearly gone by the time Grace returned to the counter.

"Stang, Luke!" she teased. "Did you even taste it?"

Luke grinned as he scraped the bottom of the bowl with his spoon. "Hey, I'm a growing boy," he replied.

"I'll say," she observed. "Look at you. Here, stand up."

He stepped off the stool, and he was startled to realize that he was actually taller than she was. The last time he'd seen her, he was eleven or twelve at the most, so it shouldn't have been that much of a surprise that he'd grown.

Still, she exclaimed, "You are not fourteen! There's no way! You're practically grown!"

Luke shook his head, his cheeks growing bright red. "Haven't started shaving yet," he said sheepishly.

"Okay, then you're fourteen," she said with a laugh. "But, stang, you're tall for your age!"

"One point seven meters, last I checked," he countered with a shrug. "About average."

"Taller than me, anyway," she remarked. "And I'm not getting any taller. This is it, kiddo."

Luke grinned and sat back down on his stool. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It is," she replied with a dramatic groan. "I'd long ago given up any hope of being beautiful, so I'd set all my dreams on being tall. Statuesque. So that people would stare at my long legs and ignore my freckles and this ridiculous hair."

Luke covertly swept his eyes over her, snapping them back up to her eyes before saying rather nervously, "You look good to me."

True, she was not what one would consider a perfect example of human beauty, but she was certainly attractive in her own way. Her eyes were incredibly expressive, and she was athletic in build, with the look of one who could certainly take care of herself. An image resurfaced in his mind of her friend, the one who had been with her when they first met. Lara, he thought her name was. She had been gorgeous, and with a friend like that, Luke could understand Grace's feelings of unattractiveness. However, in truth, she was far from it.

"I may just be a fourteen year-old kid," he went on, his palms suddenly sweaty, "but I think you're perfect just the way you are."

She was silent, then, her freckled nose scrunched up in a bemused sort of half-frown, half-smile. "I think you've spent too much time in the sun," she said eventually.

Luke chuckled, leaning on the counter. "You think I'm lying."

"That, or you're crazy," she responded, leaning on the counter as well. "Or hoping to boost your ego by hitting on an eighteen year-old."

Luke shook his head and laughed. "I'm not, I swear I'm not."

"Good," she said, straightening. "Because I'd have to get Mal out here to slap some sense into you if you were."

Luke sat up. "Oh! Is he your . . .?"

Grace chuckled. "No, nothing like that!" she said. "He's my boss, but he's very good at knocking sense into people. Particularly kids who use pick-up lines that can turn a woman's heart to mush."

"It wasn't a pick-up line," Luke argued with a grin.

"Well, whatever it was, it was good," she replied.

Luke shook his head. "Not if you still don't believe it."

This time, she snorted. "And your family was worried about you getting indoctrinated? Ha! You're the most stubborn kid I know."

He shrugged. "Maybe. But I'm honest."

She grinned and leaned over the counter again, pointing to her cheeks. "See these? These are freckles."

"Mhmm," Luke intoned.

"And this is an abnormally small nose," she added, pointing to her nose.

"Okay."

"And this eye is bigger than this eye," she continued.

Luke merely nodded.

"And this is a very pointy chin."

Luke leaned his own chin on his hand. "The whole is more than the sum of its parts, you know."

She blinked at him. "Say again."

Luke simply smiled at her.

Then she, too, smiled and shook her head. "Definitely too smart for that dumb ol' school."

"Who, me?" Luke asked innocently.

Grace stood up straight again. "You're one-of-a-kind, Luke."

There was the sound of a chime, and Luke turned to see a couple entering the diner.

"More customers," Grace said. "I'll be back."

But as she left, Luke set the credits down beside his empty soup bowl. He already felt much better than he had when he had entered, and as he double-checked the price of the meal on the menu, he realized that it was because, surprisingly, he believed her.

Maybe he was too smart for the school his aunt and uncle had pulled him out of. Maybe he didn't need that ridiculous school in order to be somebody. Maybe he was actually better off learning to become a better person under his aunt and uncle's guidance than learning to be the model Imperial citizen.

Maybe he was happier being "one-of-a-kind" than a nonentity.

Or, maybe, and this was far more likely, his emotions had simply been buoyed by a pleasant conversation with a nice young woman who made him feel good about himself for a change.

He slid off the stool with a grin and made his way toward the door.

"Hey, wait a second," she called after him. "I'll be right back," she said to the couple at the table, then hollered over her shoulder, "Stepping out for minute, Mal!"

Luke waited for her at the door, and then followed her as she stepped out into the bright sunlight.

"Listen, kiddo," she said to him, blinking even as she shaded her eyes with one hand. "Don't be a stranger. You know where to find me."

"I'll try," Luke said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "But that was the last of my school lunch money."

She laughed. "I'll tell you what. You pop in once in a while—not too often, now—but just to let me know how you're doing, and it'll be on the house."

Luke nodded, although in his heart he doubted his conscience would let him truly accept her offer. Then he extended his hand. "Goodbye, Grace."

Instead of taking it, however, she placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned forward, pressing her lips against his. The quick, gentle kiss was over before Luke's shocked brain even realized it was happening, and he stood stunned as she said, "Goodbye, Luke. That was one hell of a line."

She disappeared back into the diner, and Luke remained standing where he was for several dazed moments. Then, once he was certain his heart would not explode under the strain of his insanely rapid pulse, he walked over to his swoop and climbed on.

He barely remembered the ride back to the homestead, and he was fairly certain he still wore a giddy smile when he returned to the kitchen he had left that morning in a furious strop.

His aunt was busy cleaning out one of the food processor units when he entered, and she stared at him with a slightly bemused smile as he hopped up onto the counter, leaning his head against the cupboards.

"I'm sorry for this morning," he said.

She sighed. "Me, too, Luke."

Luke bobbed his head in acceptance of her apology, and then said, "But in the future, can you at least talk to me _before_ you make drastic decisions about my life? I'm not quite as stupid as I used to be."

His aunt chuckled lightly, taking his hand in hers. "You were never stupid, Luke."

He gave her hand a silent squeeze.

"And your uncle and I will try to discuss things with you in the future," she continued. "But please, understand, Luke. Everything we do is only to protect you."

"I know," he said, hopping off the counter. He then snatched a pallie from the bowl, realizing it was probably the same one he had grabbed that morning, and began peeling it as he headed out of the kitchen. "I just wish you weren't so secretive about everything."

"Oh, I'm sure you have your secrets, too, Luke," she said with a wink. "Like whatever it was that put you in better spirits? I know it wasn't Biggs."

Luke took a bite of the fruit and asked, "How do you know? We could have had a long and happy talk."

His aunt turned back to the food processor unit and grinned. "Biggs doesn't wear lipstick."

Luke hastily wiped at his mouth and fled from the kitchen, his aunt's laughter echoing behind him. By the time he reached his room, however, he, too, was nearly doubled over in laughter. He locked his door and flopped down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with far more cheer than he had that morning.

"Thanks a lot, Grace."


End file.
